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Chapter One Hundred-Twenty-Nine
Point of View: Narrator


When Kayla got home, Zoe was asleep. She put the groceries away and went upstairs to her room, leaving a note by Zoe to call her cellphone when she woke up. She laid down on the bed and stared at the picture of her and Nick that sat on her night stand. He was smiling, and she stared at that smile, counted the pretty white teeth that peeked out from those perfectly shaped lips...

AJ had been on her mind the entire drive home.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on repeating Nick's name in her mind...

Her hands slid down his back, her palms outstretched, feeling his skin raw and hot against hers. She moved her hips with his, their bodies connected, a sheen of sweat the only thing between them, her breasts in his mouth... She moaned and threw her head backwards, her heart pounding in her chest. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her closer, holding her tight as he thrust upward into her... She looked down at him, ran her hand over his closely-shaved head and over the tattooes on his neck... She bent close, their noses touching, his nose ring tickling her face, and their mouths touched, his tongue slipping into her mouth...

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly in the bed, gasping in surprise.

She'd been dreaming about AJ.

About having sex with AJ.

Kayla wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead.

Sex. With AJ. With AJ!

Her cell phone rang.

She grabbed it. "Be right down," she barked to Zoe. She hung up and looked at the smiling picture of Nick staring over at her from the nightstand. "Shit," she whispered, shaking.



Leon was pissed.

"Come on man, you can fucking sell this to the lowest bidder on eBay for more than that," he snarled, "This shit is fucking Nick Carter's - the Backstreet Boy. The one that's in jail for fucking slaughtering Krystal Armaletto. This shit is worth a fortune."

The pawn shopkeeper shrugged, "There's no proof it's his..."

Leon gripped the counter. "It's fucking worth more than seven hundred for the lot of it whether it's Nick's or not you asshole," he snarled, snatching the stuff up off the counter and shoving it into his bag.



Howie finished reading the contract for the land and looked up. "Okay, well everything looks good, you got a pen?"

The landowner pulled out a black pen and slid it across the table to Howie, who quickly uncapped it and signed and initialled and dated away money in large multiples of millions and pushed the contract back across the table to the lawyer who was witnessing the business transaction.

"Okay then, that's that," she said, smiling, "Howie, you are now the proud owner of the property."

Howie grinned, "Oceanside Residences West," he said, nodding. "Coming soon," he added with a laugh.

He stood up and the landowner shook hands with him. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dorough. Please let us know if you need any other assistance with obtaining any further properties on the west coast."

"I will," Howie replied, tucking his copy of the contract into his jacket pocket. He winked.



Eric was sitting on the ground in the corner of the yard when Nick finally ventured outside. His back was killing him, but the fresh air smelled nice. He spotted Eric, hugging his knees and smoking, alone. He sighed and headed over.

"Hey," he said when he as a couple feet away.

Eric looked up. His eye was swollen.

"What the hell happened?" Nick asked, concerned.

Eric shrugged. "It's not a big deal, really," he muttered. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke at the wall beside him, frowning.

Nick sat down, too.

"They just fucked me up a little is all," Eric said, shrugging again. Anger - white-hot - shot through Nick's veins and he felt his face crumble into a deep-rooted scowl at the ideal that someone could be so childish and stupid and closeminded as those guys were being towards Eric. Eric picked up on the flush of anger that turned Nick's face red. "Really, it's fine," he persisted.

"It's not fine, they can't do that," Nick said, shaking his head, "Eric, you can't let them mess around with you like that. You gotta stand up to'em."

Eric shrugged, "I dunno how. Look, Nick, it doesn't matter, okay? Last time I stood up for myself I ended up here."

"Just don't take it so far," Nick instructed. "I mean - tell a warden, tell someone besides just me."

Eric snorted. "They all hate me too."

"Nawh they don't..."

Eric stared at him. "Nick, in case you haven't noticed, I'm gay, and people don't like that."

Nick sighed. "I'll teach you."

"What?"

"I'll teach you how to stand up to assholes like them."

Eric blinked up at Nick. He threw the cigarette down and stomped on it with his sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Eric's eyes filled with excitement. "Nick, you're a good guy," he said, "You're like seriously a good guy."

Nick laughed. "Calm down," he said, smiling, "It's what friends are for."

Eric's face froze and fell from its excited grin into a look of astonishment. He stared at Nick. "I'm your friend?"

"Sure," Nick replied off handedly.

Eric stared at him, his eyes widening slowly. "I haven't had a friend in a really, really long time."

Nick smiled, even though his heart had just broken for Eric.